


Nighthawk

by deathlydauntless



Series: The Dictionary of Obscure Romanogers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Cap is adjusting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Moving On, Natasha has nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6632878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlydauntless/pseuds/deathlydauntless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>n. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.</p><p>She's all he has. His purpose, his new life. And he's what she needs to start anew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighties, this is the beginning of a new series and a new approach to writing for me! Please feel free to leave a comment/suggestion if you have the time, and enjoy :)
> 
> Rated M for some "LANGUAGE!"
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel Studios and Walt Disney Studios own all characters. No copyright infringement was intended.

Steve Rogers had liked to believe he was not a very sentimental person.

Ever since he’d been thawed out from a chunk of ice shelf in the Arctic, he had tried to focus on his duties and responsibilities as (arguably) America’s favorite superhero. Throw himself back into the fight. Follow orders. Lead _his_ own team, just as he’d done with the Howling Commandos back in 1943. He’d put his doubts (and his disassociation with the time period) behind him.

But he was still human, and he still had feelings.

Feelings, for example, that manifested themselves whenever he went to visit Peggy- he just couldn’t hold back when he was around her, spilling out his heart even though she was bound to forget what he’d told her as soon as he left the room.

And it was just getting worse. He’d have a perfectly normal (as far as ‘normal’ could go between an Avenger and a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent) conversation with her and then turn around to get her a glass of water, and her wise brown eyes would widen and her thin mouth would tremble, and she’d whisper, “Steve?” as if she was seeing him for the first time after the war.

“I’m right here, Peggy,” he’d reply, his voice cracking, nodding and smiling to her.

“It’s been _so_ long,” she’d cry, in a wistful tone that made Steve’s heart clench and render him unable to say anything more because of the lump in his throat. It happened every time he saw her, and every time he wished he’d stayed frozen just so he wouldn’t have to see her suffer-

But then he would berate himself for being so selfish, because he was brought back for a reason- didn’t he have a responsibility to S.H.I.E.L.D. and the world?

So he tried his best to move on; to accept the fact that he’d always loved Peggy but it was never meant to happen. When he’d woken up in the future and had weeks to himself to just drown in his thoughts, he couldn’t help but imagine what they could have been. Steve could see them getting married; having a family. He could see them raising beautiful children and fiercely protecting them. He rarely slept; instead spending countless nights imagining the life he could have lived with his best friend and the woman he loved. He was sad and frustrated as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling for hours because there was no one else on this good earth that he would ever, ever love as much as he’d loved Peggy.

Perhaps… _one_ other woman.

Steve could never pinpoint exactly when his feelings for a certain red-haired, ex-Soviet assassin crept up on him. He didn’t even think about her very often, if he could say so himself. When they were out in the field together, the only thing that mattered was taking out the enemies and protecting civilian lives, and everything else came after. And she was terribly good at it. She was an efficient fighter- with a different style than himself, but efficient nonetheless. She rolled through HYDRA agents like they were nothing to her (and they were), pistols firing and Widow’s Bites crackling. She fought gracelessly and effortlessly, as if she was dancing instead of fighting. Fury partnered them on one mission as a test of their compatibility on the field, and after that, they were inseparable. They were learning to trust each other. She found a rare friend in him and he found his new purpose, his confidence, in her.

But he’d never expected to fall in love with Natasha Romanoff.

Steve’s visions of her only appeared at night in the sanctity of his apartment in D.C., as far away as he could get from S.H.I.E.L.D. and saving the world. As he dwelled on the day’s events, tucked up in blankets on the couch or in his bed, an image would appear, unbidden, of Natasha’s flirtatious smile or her bright red hair or her beautiful eyes or the way she looked in her catsuit.

In his mind’s eye, he began to imagine living a life with her. Slowly, not all at once, because even his imagination knew how Natasha felt about such things. Dating, living together, maybe even getting married- whatever he imagined having with Peggy could be a real possibility with his best friend and his partner in justice-

And then he would go back to work the next day and everything would be forgotten because they were both S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and also because Black Widow did not love, much less want a family. Steve tried to move on from her like he had done with Peggy, tried to take his chances with some of the girls Natasha herself kept on setting him up with, but in the end, when he went home- she was the only one he could think about. She was the only one that mattered. While Peggy was fading away, getting closer and closer to becoming a mere memory, Natasha was the only one anchoring him to this world. She made him feel like he belonged. She mentored him, guided him through this turbulent new life of his. Her voice and laugh echoed in his head as he tried to sleep, and it was then that he knew he’d fallen in love.

His only regret was that it had taken him so long to realize.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A powerful battle of wills between Natasha and her nightmares.

She dreamed of the Red Room.

She dreamed of dancing, of gliding across the marble floors, and she dreamed of the coppery taste of blood and the smoke drifting out of the barrel of a gun.

She heard rough voices and felt strong arms, pushing her and training her beyond her limits.

_You are deadly, Natalia._

She _was_ deadly, and she relished in it. She seduced and murdered and she loved it- loved the power, loved the adrenaline, loved the expression on a man’s face when he realized he had fallen into the Black Widow’s web. She was a machine- the best of the best, the Red Room’s pride and glory. There were no questions asked and none answered. There was only her mission, and she completed it. She always did.

Until Clint Barton found her. He found her in the same streets from which she’d been taken as a child. He found her broken and kneeling beside a dead body in the rain, because some piece of her sanity had fallen from the perpetual high and shattered in her heart. She was more lost than she’d ever been. (He would learn later that the body on the ground was that of the only man she’d ever loved.) He’d been assigned to find her and take her down- as one of the best agents that S.H.I.E.L.D. had- but he didn’t. Clint stood, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he pointed his pistol at her, and he was filled with a strange, dangerous curiosity. He knelt, never putting his gun away but never shooting, and followed her gaze to her hands.

Dark red dripped from her fingertips and mixed with the rain.

She would never know what made him do it, but he saved her. He spared her life, even though she could have killed him with her bare hands if she had tried. He saw something else in her- potential, maybe- and brought her back against his orders, convincing S.H.I.E.L.D. administration that she could be useful in exchange for getting her humanity back. After months of recovery and letting Clint, moment by moment, into her heart- she took to the field. It took less than one mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. to realize how powerful she was. People began to respect her, to see beyond her convoluted past and instead focus on the future she was making for herself. She rose through the ranks. She tried her hardest. She wanted to change. Everyone around her accepted that she was somehow cleansed; that the ghosts of her past were just that- ghosts- but Natasha knew differently.

As much as she wanted to change, the deepest, darkest parts of her soul knew she never would.

_You are forever ours, Natalia. No one can take you from us._

She had no choice but to believe it.

 

 

_Are we still on for movies today?_

The buzz of Natasha’s smartphone brought her back to the present. She was perched precariously on the armrest of her couch, simultaneously eating her breakfast and shuffling through a mission report from days ago. She was behind on her work (which she never liked to admit), probably because of less sleep (which she also didn’t want to admit) and her nightmares. They’d been getting worse and worse for weeks- months, even- right after she’d cautiously assured herself that they were going away.

She had a hunch that it was because of Steve.

Not that he gave her nightmares- far from it. It was the fact that he’d wormed his way into her heart and her life before she knew what was happening. It was the fact that he radiated goodness and humility and the strongest, most compassionate kind of power that just washed over her and made her feel happy for the first time in years. It was the fact that they’d been assigned as partners and then became friends and then really good friends.

It was the fact that she’d finally found someone she wanted to be good for.

Clint had always accepted her as she was, keeping his distance when necessary but being there when she needed it. He had his own demons and she had hers; it was what made them so close.

But Steve was different. He was just _so good_ that she felt like she didn’t deserve to have him as a friend. Every time he visited her, every time they went out for dinner, every time they so much as had a conversation- she couldn’t help but remember her past, the red in her ledger, the phantom blood on her hands that would never wash away. All the things that, in her eyes, made her unworthy of a friend like Steve.

Every time she thought, _maybe there could be something more between us_ \- every time he hinted at this- she thought of who she was, who she would always be, and it was all the more reason to stay away from him.

Steve, apparently, didn’t feel the same way. He was constantly making plans with her and staunchly refused to brush off her lame excuses. He could see right through her. In all the hours and days they spent together, they’d never talked about her past, even though he was reluctantly willing to answer questions about his. He told her about his mother and his sisters and Bucky, about joining S.H.I.E.L.D. and meeting Peggy, but he wouldn’t go farther than that. Yet he never asked her. It was as if it didn’t matter to him.

Natasha didn’t care. It mattered to her, and she would make sure he didn’t hurt himself trying to get close to her. She flirted with him occasionally, if only to see him get adorably flustered, but most of the time she kept her distance for his sake. She decided that she’d be there only because he had no one else. A last resort. She decided he didn’t need baggage like her in his life.

(Looking back on it, she should have let him make that decision on his own.)

So there they were, at his apartment on a Friday night after a hectic week of overseas missions, preparing for a night of watching Disney movies. Steve had ordered pizza and she’d brought wine, and they were arranging their dinner on the coffee table when he spoke up.

“Is something wrong?”

How the hell could he read her so well? “No,” she answered, a little too quickly to go unnoticed. He raised his eyebrows. “I’m fine, Rogers. Just a little tired.”

“We can do this during the day tomorrow, you know. You should sleep.”

There he was again, being annoyingly kind and watchful and just… him.

“I don’t want to.”

He finished pouring wine for both of them, but didn’t hand her the glass. She knew what was coming. “Nat, talk to me. What’s going on?”

His voice was so full of concern- there was no ulterior motive, no underlying tone. Just him wanting to look out for her. She felt herself wanting to speak, to spill her thoughts to him, to _let him take care of her_ , and she struggled to get a hold of herself.

Maybe she didn’t have to.

She shifted a little in her seat. “I’ve been thinking too much, I guess. I don’t know. And sleeping just- it brings everything back.” She paused, trying to find a way to alleviate his worries about her without saying too much. “It’s too easy to think in the quiet. And the dark.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “I get that. I still have nightmares.”

Natasha took a sharp breath when she heard the word. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-“

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was even softer now, and she was painfully aware of how silent and shadowy the apartment was. “Talk to me,” he implored, almost pleading, and that was all it took.

She felt faint tears pricking at the back of her eyes and wanted to look away, to gain some sort of control over herself, but he held her gaze- strong and supportive but soft- and her masks fell away.

Her next words came as a whisper. “The Red Room.”

She felt the couch cushions shift as he moved closer. She looked down. She kept talking. “What they made me do. I still- think about it sometimes. I can’t forget. I want to.”

He took her hand, warm against her freezing fingertips. “I killed people. I- they made me do worse things, too, you wouldn’t even-”

“I know.”

Natasha’s head snapped up. “How do you-“

The corners of Steve’s mouth quirked upward in the ghost of a smile. “I have ways of finding things out, too.”

“Steve-”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. told me, Nat. When they assigned us to work together. They told me where you came from and what you were doing when they found you-”

She pulled her hand away, feeling exposed and ashamed and angry. “Why do you still- why didn’t you say anything?”

“There was nothing to say, Nat.” She shook her head, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave- run away from herself- but he kept talking. “Nat. _Nat._ Listen. What makes you think I would care about all that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” she asked, in a low voice. Her voice was quavering, but she kept going. “Why would you want to work with someone like that? Or be friends with someone like that? You knew what I did, you knew how fucked up my life was-”

“You’re right, Nat. I did.” He was reaching for her hand again. “But I’m telling you, I don’t care. I’ve seen some crazy things myself.” He gave a dry chuckle. “It’s the past, Nat. It happened but it’s over. You don’t do that stuff anymore, do you?”

He didn’t need to hear the answer, but she gave it anyway. “No.”

“Then it doesn’t matter to me,” he said simply. She stared at him, marveled at how willing he was to forgive. “It’s like you’re writing a new story for yourself. We both are. What matters is now.”

She felt her head clearing up and her heart swelling. _A new story_. “Is that right, Rogers?” she asked, feeling her lips curve into a smile.

“That’s right,” he confirmed, nodding. “I like spending time with you, Nat.”

“Only ‘like’?”

He blushed, and she felt all her feelings come back. “Love.”

The word hung in the air between them.

 

 

She dreamed of the Red Room.

But now she dreamed of leaving it, of Clint rescuing her and bringing her to S.H.I.E.L.D. She dreamed of meeting Captain America, fighting alongside him, forming a friendship with him.

Falling in love with him.

She dreamed of his lips on hers, soft but steady, filling her with life and joy and beginning to erase the red in her ledger. She dreamed of his arm around her waist and her arm around his shoulders, leaning into him, letting him drain her of her troubles. Letting him protect her, letting him take care of her. Letting him love her.

When she woke up, she stretched and smiled because it wasn’t just a dream.

It was her new life.

_Her new story._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that :) How do you guys think this is going? Do you like the idea of writing stories based on the words? Please feel free to comment and thanks for reading!


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